


Thunderstorms

by rosegoldroman



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Tiny!sides, tiny sides, you will literally die of cuteness i stg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldroman/pseuds/rosegoldroman
Summary: Roman is afraid of thunder. Who better to go to about his fears than fear himself? (completely platonic brotherly bonding, so fluffy you'll get cavities in every single tooth in your mouth)





	Thunderstorms

The rain fell harshly against Virgil’s bedroom window, the sound loud and calming. He watched the raindrops steadily slide down the glass with half-lidded eyes, the slightest hints of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. His arms were folded behind his head, his fingers tangled in his purple hair.

It had been like this for hours now, since they’d woken up to find the sky clouded and gray and the world outside soaking wet, but you wouldn’t hear any complaints from Anxiety. He loved the rain; it was gloomy and dark and often hated, but it was still needed, still helpful. He wished he could be like it.

Thunder rumbled throughout the room, and his eyes slipped shut, the corners of his mouth twitching happily. He took in a big, deep breath, allowing crisp, rain-scented air to fill him. There was nothing quite like the scent of petrichor.

He felt… good. It was hard to focus on the anxious voices in his head when he could focus on the droning, endless sound of the rain instead. For once, he didn’t feel scared or worried, or anxious about anything. He relished in the feeling of serenity, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that it wouldn’t last.

He heard the nearby noise of a door opening, and cracked open one eye in curiosity. Another kind of pitter-patter joined in with the noise of the rain on the window, barely audible — the pitter-patter of small feet against his floor. Then, a moment later, a voice:

“Virge?”

The voice was soft, and it shook with fear, though it was obvious the child was trying to hide it. Virgil raised an eyebrow, grunting as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He leaned against his headboard, running a hand gently through his hair to push it back into place. 

Child Roman stood at the end of Virgil’s bed, his eyes wide as they darted fearfully throughout the room. His bright blue Cinderella pajamas and soft purple puff of hair were a bright spot against the dark background of Virgil’s room.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked. He could sense that something was up by the way the child shifted nervously, his socks rubbing anxiously against the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m okay!” His voice was bright, much too cheerful for the way his bottom lip trembled against his will. “I just wanted to talk! What’re you doin’?”

“Er…” Virgil blinked. He’d never been good with kids in the first place; how was he supposed to deal with a child-sized version of the prince who’d hated him for most of his life? “Nothing? I’m just… listening to the rain… What’s going on with you?” 

Roman shrugged, shaking his head. “Nothin’!” he insisted, too insistently to not make Virgil suspicious. Virgil raised an eyebrow, and the young prince giggled nervously. “I’m… I just… The rain, huh? That’s — oh my god!”

Lightning flashed outside the window, and a sharp bolt of thunder followed soon after, leaving Roman trembling, his arms wrapped tightly around his shaking frame. Virgil raised his eyebrows, understanding flooding his body. Roman was afraid of the storm!

“You… You okay, kid?” he asked, leaning forward. Roman gasped, his eyes going wide, and began nodding vigorously.

“I’m perf’tly fine! I jus’ got startled!” he cried, biting his lip to keep it from trembling. Virgil felt his heart pang with sympathy.

“You’re afraid of thunder, huh?” he asked, climbing down from his bed. Roman shook his head intently, his bottom lip jutting out in a childish pout.

“I’m not ‘fraid of anything!” he protested. “I’m a prince and princes havta be brave!” He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his affronted pout becoming more and more adorable as time went on. Virgil leaned against the end of his bed, raising an eyebrow at the stubborn child.

“I simply wanted to talk to you!” Roman insisted. “I know momma Lo, and dad! You’re so mys… myst…” He thought for a moment, his arms tensing as the rain grew even harder. “Mysterious!”

Mysterious? Virgil couldn’t help the little snicker that escaped. Roman puffed up, pursing his lips, and Virgil’s smile grew. “Okay,” he offered with a shrug, relenting to Roman. “What do you wanna know about me?”

Roman blinked. It looked like he didn’t expect to get this far. He thought for a moment, and opened his mouth to speak, but then —

Crash-boom!

Thunder roared throughout the room, and Roman screamed, rushing blindly forward. His arms wrapped tightly around Virgil, his tiny fists balling in the soft fabric of his hoodie, and he smooshed his face into Virgil’s chest. Virgil froze, shocked — somewhere in his mind, he realized that he should be comforting the child, and lowered his hands to wrap them around Roman — but he’d already stepped away, taking deep breaths to calm his trembling, his lower lip trembling with fear.

“Sorry,” he said softly, not meeting Virgil’s eyes. “I’m… ‘m not scared. I promise.”

Virgil’s heart simultaneously melted and broke. His eyebrows furrowed, he shook his head. “It’s okay to be scared, kid. You know that, right?”

“But…” Roman blinked, the corners of his eyes sparkling with little tears. “But I’m a prince.”

“Even princes can get scared,” Virgil said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees to look Roman in the eye. “True bravery isn’t about never being scared, you know. It’s about being scared, and still doing what you need to do, and still facing that fear.” 

He’d pulled the words straight from another conversation, from way back when things were normal and he was the one panicking while Roman calmed him down, and he prayed that Roman wouldn’t remember saying them. It seemed to work, though; the prince blinked, allowing the words to impact him, and nodded slowly like Virgil had just imparted glorious wisdom upon him.

“So… I can still be a prince if I’m scared?” he asked, blinking up at Virgil with wide, adorable brown eyes. 

“I mean, yeah? You’re already a prince in my book, if that matters to you.” It won’t, said the little, anxious voice in the back of his mind, and Virgil agreed.

But then Roman was grinning up at him like Christmas had come early, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and Virgil’s chest filled with a warm-fuzzy feeling. Against all odds, he was doing okay. Maybe he wasn’t so bad with kids after all?

Roman yelped at the next bolt of thunder, automatically taking a step towards Virgil in fear. Virgil’s chest flared with protectiveness; a moment later he was scooping the child into his arms, holding him tightly against his torso. They stayed like that until the thunder’s rumbling had faded back into rain, and then even longer, until Roman’s trembling had stilled.

Roman pulled away from Virgil, looking up at him with a shy smile. There were smudges of eyeshadow beneath his eyes, and the black makeup ran down his face in trails of tears. Virgil’s heart stopped.

“Oh sh —” He stopped himself before he could swear. Roman looked up at him in confusion, his lip still trembling.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and the eyeshadow grew with his concern. There was another flash of lightning, a blast of thunder soon after; the child’s cheeks grew black as the eyeshadow began to spread.

“Uh, you need to get out of here,” Virgil said quickly. “The room is corrupting you.” He could hear his voice begin to change, could feel the power flowing through him thanks to the other’s heightened anxiety, and began to feel sick. Roman’s eyes went wide.

“What? B-But —”

“Go, kid. Get back to bed.” Virgil stood, ushering him out of the door, his chest seizing with panic. Why had he allowed Roman to stay for so long? He was such an idiot! “It’s not safe for you in here. It’s not safe for anyone but me. Goodnight, princey.”

“No!” Roman cried, just before Virgil could close the door. He wiped his eyes on his pajama sleeves, leaving twin trails of anxious corruption across Cinderella’s carriage, and glared up at Virgil stubbornly. “’M fine!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am!”

“Then why are you wearing so much eyeshadow?” he asked, crossing his arms.  
“I… Um…” Roman glared, his tiny cheeks puffed up in anger. “Maybe I like it!”

Virgil smirked, leaning against the doorframe, his panic lessening now that Roman was in the hallway rather than the corrupting room. “Really? You like it?” he asked, his voice flat.

Roman didn’t meet Virgil’s eyes, his hands clenching into little, adorable fists by his sides. He sniffled, jumping when thunder rumbled yet again and meeting Virgil’s eyes with wide, pleading ones of his own. Realization flooded Virgil.

He didn’t want to be alone.

Even as a child, Roman was just as stubborn as his annoying adult self, and if that stubbornness was applied to his unwillingness to truly face his feelings, then so be it. But child Roman wasn’t as good with a poker-face as adult Roman was, and Virgil could read the fear in his face as easily as he could read a book.

Virgil stepped out into the hallway, closing his door behind him. “Come on,” he said, striding quickly towards the bathroom. Roman followed, jogging to keep up, his eyes wide and confused.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked curiously, sniffling loudly. Virgil stopped, stepping into the bathroom with a sigh.

He closed the toilet, and patted the top of the toilet seat, fixing Roman with a soft stare. “Hop up,” he said, stepping out into the hallway to grab a washcloth from the linen closet. Patton was going to be upset at the eyeshadow stains on his towels, but at the moment, Virgil didn’t care. He wet the towel with warm water and began wiping the eyeshadow from beneath the child’s eyes.

Roman yawned, rubbing at his eyes. The bathroom was the most insulated part of the house, and now that he couldn’t hear the thunder, he was realizing just how tired he really was. It was far past his bedtime, after all. Virgil watched him fidget sleepily with a fond smile on his face as he squeezed the water out of the cloth and set it down in the hamper.

Holding out his hand, he offered Roman a smile. “Let’s get you to bed, princey.”

“But —”

“Don’t worry, I’m coming with you.”  
Roman sagged in relief, eagerly taking Virgil’s hand. Virgil led him down the hallway, both careful not to make a sound, lest they disturb ‘momma Lo’ and get in trouble. Virgil shuddered to think of what Logan would do to him if he found Roman out of bed after he’d spent so long trying to get him to go to sleep.

He probably wouldn’t survive the encounter.

It seemed whatever curse had affected Roman in this way had also affected his room; it was as childish as the prince himself. Where once, grand castles and sprawling forests had stretched for miles within the endless expanse of the room, now only a simple bedroom remained. The walls were painted to look like an enchanted forest, and the bed was shaped like a tiny castle, complete with a tall tower where Roman kept his beloved stuffed animals.

Roman released Virgil’s hand and raced up the stairs to the top of the tower, leaping over the side with a loud cry of excitement. Virgil yelped, rushing forward in fear — but Roman landed on his bed with a giggle, perfectly unharmed. 

Virgil sagged in relief, and began perusing the tall bookshelves, finding something child-friendly among the dozens of thick, fantastical tomes. He sat on the edge of Roman’s bed, smirking as the child burrowed beneath his royal red blankets, and opened the book to begin to read.

Roman interrupted him before he could utter the first word, inching over in his bed. “No,” he said, shaking his head resolutely.

“No?”

“Dad always lays with me!”

“I’m not Dad.”

Roman fixed him with a stubborn glare, shifting to open the blankets and allow Virgil inside. Virgil rolled his eyes, but did as told, climbing into the bed and pulling the soft blankets over himself. Roman seemed pleased with himself, smiling as he hugged his stuffed lion to his chest. 

Smiling, Virgil began to read.

It was halfway through the tale of the Big Red Barn that Virgil was interrupted by tiny, soft snoring. He looked down and found Roman curled up into his side, his eyes shut and his breathing even. Virgil let out a breath, careful to keep quiet.

Roman’s hands were balled tightly around the fabric of Virgil’s jacket, and he didn’t look like he would be letting go anytime soon. Virgil’s heart melted, and he let out a sigh. He couldn’t leave, could he? The prince had him trapped.

To be honest, he didn’t really mind.

He set the book down on the bedside table, and flicked off the lamp. Carefully, he shifted so that he was laying comfortably, making sure to mind Roman and his vice-grip on the jacket. The last thing he wanted to do was wake him up.

He let out a breath, his eyes slipping shut. He was on the verge of sleep (Patton would be proud of him for that one) when he heard a tiny voice, barely audible over the sound of the rain outside.

“Virgil?”

Oh god, had he woken him up? 

Roman yawned, shifting quietly. He sleepily cuddled into Virgil’s side, his eyes still shut. Was he talking in his sleep? Virgil raised an eyebrow, not even daring to breathe lest he wake the prince.

“I love you.”

Virgil froze, his heart stopping. Had he heard him right? The prince was sleepy, had he even meant it? But Roman was pushing into Virgil’s side, his hands still tightly grasping his jacket, and he didn’t show any signs of waking to reveal the words as a joke or cruel prank. Slowly, a fond smile grew over Virgil’s face, and he relaxed, letting his eyes close.

“I love you, too,” he said, and fell asleep.


End file.
